


Frail Deeds Might Have Danced

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Holmestice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To everything under the sun, there is a season. A time to be born, a time to die, and a time to cling, and a time to let go. Even if you aren't on the side of the angels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frail Deeds Might Have Danced

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musamihi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musamihi/gifts).



Angels

"All my life I’ve been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction, and now I don’t even have you. Because I’ve beaten you."

God, you're all so predictable. But this is it, isn't it, Sherlock? This is the game. Light and Dark, good and evil. No, those are just words. Words on a page. Words that Richard Brook spun. Words that Kitty Riley wrote. 

Kitty. Pretty Kitty Riley. Who would have thought that she would be the agent of your downfall? How ridiculously easy it was. 

Pretty Kitty. Believed every word. Just. Like. You. 

They're true though, aren't they? All of those words. 

"Nobody seems to get the joke, but you do."

Speaking of words. Do you really get it though, Sherlock? Words, patterns, musical notes. They're all patterns, and they all mean NOTHING!

Got you. Got Sherlock.

"I knew you’d fall for it. That’s your weakness – you always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building – nice way to do it."

Do you get it now? All those words? The numbers. The numbers that weren't actually anything?

"'Genius detective proved to be a fraud.' I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairytales."

Words! Words! Words! That's what Hamlet said.

But Hamlet was just _pretending_ to be mad. 

Whereas you and I, Sherlock… You and I…

We're all mad here. 

And speaking of mad…

"You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me; but nothing’s gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die... unless..."

Oh, now you've got it. Good boy. So easily led. Poor Sherlock. The mind of an idiot hiding in the body of a genius. Nobody's too clever for me. Run, run, as fast as you can!

Oh, wait. You can't do that. 

"Naah. You talk big. Naah. You’re ordinary. You’re ordinary – you’re on the side of the angels."

Think you're not your brother? Oh, if only I'd had the handling of your _brother_. Tied to a chair… chained. Slapped. Oh, but that doesn't feel good. Not as good as the cold metal of the gun in my mouth.

Watch this, my clever boy. Watch what happens _now_.

* * *

**Day 1**

“He’s awake.”

Oh God. Where am I?

I can't see. I can't … it's like I'm drowning. I…

Voices.

Some of them I recognize. No, that's not some; that's one of them. Clipped tones. I remember him. He would sneer at me. No. Not me. At Jim.

“Good, let’s bring him slowly up. Don’t startle him.”

“Vitals are showing normal.” 

“Good, keep going.”

No. Nonononononono this isn't right. He wants to break you. Remember? Honey, you can't break me. No. Won't break. Dear, dear Mr Holmes – a jetliner? Pedestrian. No, that's not right either.

Where am I? Why am I here? What did I do? 

Waltzed. 

Get him. Get Sherlock.

Sherlock.

Sherlock.

No. Nonononononononono. Not here.

“Doctor.”

“I see. Keep him stable. Watch him.

“Richard? Richard, it’s all right. You’re safe.”

Screams. Laughter. They all laughed at me. 

No! No! No! Stopitstopitstopit!

"Doctor!"

"It’s all right, Richard. It’s me, Doctor Holmes. Do you remember?"

FUCK YOU! PEOPLE DIE EVERY DAY – WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT? IT WAS HIS TURN! HE WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE!

"Doctor, look out!"

"We need restraints in here!"

"Richard, no, it’s ok, I’m here. Doctor Holmes. Richard."

"Doctor! We’ll have to restrain him!"

"Yes. Of course. Damn! We were so close. Sedate him."

No! Please, doctor. Save me. Jim's too close. His face. My face. I'm not supposed to be like this. This isn't how it's supposed to end.

"I’m sorry, Doctor."

"I know. I am, too. I'll have to tell his girlfriend."

Wait. No. Wait. Stop. Think. Think. Think.

"Doctor Holmes?"

Why do I sound like that? What happened to my voice?

Richard? Yes, Richard, I’m here. You’re safe. I’m here. 

“Iceman.”

No. That wasn't it. Help me, please. Help me. I'm… I'm so scared.

“What? Richard? Who is the Iceman?"

Hee! You don’t know, do you?

Mock him. He doesn't know. No. That isn't right. This doesn't end like this. It's not the end of the story. It can't be.

“No, Richard, tell me.”

“Silly man. It’s _you_.”

Fog. The fog's coming in again.

"Sorry. Wrong day. To…"

“He’ll sleep now, Doctor.”

* * *

Fairytale

A merry tune. 

A tale. But it's a tale Jim can't tell.

Hello, Richard. It's been _so_ long. Have you had a nice time? Watching Jim play? What do you think of it all? Did you like the part with the children? I thought that was clever. 

And oh, Kitty. My Kitty lass. You remember Richard. You like Richard. You think he's clever and good. You like the stories he tells.

Well, you tell stories, too, Kitty. And you are going to tell the most wonderful story you can imagine. It'll have a hero (that's you, Kitty) and a villain. 

I think I'll call him Sir Boast-A-Lot. Yes. Because everyone thinks he's _so_ clever. But he's not. 

He's actually just as _boring_ as the rest of you lot. 

As boring as Richard was. 

"Darling, they didn't have any ground coffee so I got you…"

Oh, hello there, Sherlock. I had _no_ idea you were going to drop by!

My Kitty. My Kitty lass. 

You knew they'd be coming to see you, didn't you?

Handcuffed together. That was a nice touch. Well, Sherlock does want to keep his little pet nearby. 

Hush now, hush. It's going to be all over soon. 

How about a nice little bedtime story? Would you like that? 

Would you?

Push open the door. Remember, act surprised. You're an _actor_ , remember? 

Well, Richard is. Richard is who you were. Were before Jim.

Bring Richard back. Get Richard.

Get Sherlock.

* * *

**Day 3**

This time it's clearer. The mist is going. With Jim. I want so much to be free of him. 

He is you. 

No. 

Yes, yes he is. He's real. As real as you are. No. No, he's not. 

Claire died. Why did she die?

You wanted her to live.

What? Who is Claire?

No. Not now. I don't believe it. I don't believe _you_.

“Richard? Can you hear me?”

I know him. Doctor. Doctor Holmes.

“Yellow."

“Richard?”

“Where…”

If Jim is here, too. 

No, Jim's not real. He's something you and Kitty invented. To prove a point. What point? Why don't I remember?

"Where am I?"

“Safe. Ayelsbury Mental Health Hospice.”

Safe. Doctor Holmes. Kitty. Where's Kitty?

"Kitty?"

"She's been waiting for you. But you must not excite yourself."

My Kitty. My Kitty Riley. My girl Kitty.

"Richard – oh please, please…"

God, her voice. Let me cling to her voice. 

"Kitty."

She's been crying. Has that been because of me? I think so. Kitty, my darling lass.

"My darling lass."

"Richard. You're awake."

"My Kitty – what happened?"

She's glancing at Doctor Holmes. Why? Oh. Why don't they want me to know?

"You've had an… accident."

Kitty, Kitty my pet, don't lie to me. Please. You know daddy doesn't like it when you lie.

"An… Kitty, don't lie to me, lass. You know I don't like it."

"I'm sorry, Richard. You… You've been unconscious. In a coma for weeks now. We were so worried."

Kitty, Kitty, Kitty – lying again. Always lying to me. Silly girl. Silly Kitty lass.

"Doctor!"

"I'm so sorry, Miss Riley – we've lost him again."

"How… how long, Doctor? How long is this supposed to be going on?"

"We're not sure, Miss Riley. But we do know that he does respond to you. And to me. And that is a start. It's a way out, Miss Riley. A way out of this fugue state that he's put himself in."

"I just want my Richard back."

"I know, dear. I know."

Sinner Man

Not guilty. 

Really. Not guilty.

No. It's wrong. It doesn't happen now.

Now it's tea. Tea with Sherlock.

Oh, the joy of the banal. The English custom. 

A nice cup of tea. 

Perhaps some music in the background. 

I'll be Jim and he'll be mother.

* * *

**Day 7**

Doctor Holmes' voice again. Oh, God, what a terrible dream. So much hatred; so much violence. 

I'm Richard Brook. I'm a storyteller. I have a DVD. I'm on a television show – a medical drama. 

“I’m scared that he’ll come back. When I’m asleep. He always comes when I’m asleep. Don’t make me sleep again.”

I can't stop shaking. Why am I shaking? Doctor Holmes, why am I shaking?

Why do I hate you so much?

Why did you beat me?

“Okay, Richard. It’s okay. You're coming out of a fugue state. Remember? There was an accident.”

“Yes. I don’t… I am him. I don’t want to be him. He’s done such… horrible things.”

This is what going mad feels like. Where's Kitty? Why isn't she here?

“Who, Richard?”

“He’s murdered people. I remember, he murdered … he murdered Sherlock Holmes.”

Why do I know that name?

Doctor Holmes backs away, lips pressed together. 

_"The Virgin. The Iceman. I remember them. You're… you're the Iceman. And I killed your virgin brother! The sacrifice of the virgin for the war. Iphigenia!_

_But Iphigenia wasn't really all that pure, was she?"_

"Richard? What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, Doctor. I just… I see your face, but there are two faces – one is yours, with the white coat and the kind smile, and the other is the face of the Iceman."

* * *

**Day 10**

“He’s improving. This is the best that we’ve seen him.”

Kitty. My Kitty lass. I can hear you. I can hear my darling girl.

“I’m so glad, Doctor Holmes.”

"Kitty?"

“Richard?”

“Kitty? Is that you?”

“Oh, God, yes, Richard, it’s me. It’s me, Richard.”

“Kitty! I remember, I hadn’t forgotten you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t, Richard. I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too. Oh, God, I love you so much.”

They're all just words. But they mean something now. Kitty, my Kitty Riley.

“We’re going to get through this, Richard. You and me. We’re going to do this.

“Richard?”

“Richard, it’s Doctor Holmes. Richard?”

“Richard? Doctor, what’s happening?”

“He’s… I’m so sorry, Miss Riley. I’m afraid we’ve lost him again.”

No, you haven't lost me. I just can't… Every time I see you, Mycroft Holmes, I see double. It's _you_. Kitty, wait for me. Kitty…

**Day 20**

“How long has it been?”

God, make it stop. I want it to stop. I want it to get better.

“Ten days. If you can manage an entire fortnight…”

Yes. I can do that. I can be that man. I can be Richard. God, please let me be Richard. I remember when I was always Richard – the little boy running along the shore at Brighton with his best friend in the whole world, Kitty.

The little boy who was so afraid of the water. 

The little boy whose sister died.

The little boy who waited.

The little boy who watched his sister drown.

The boy who learned to swim but was still afraid. 

The boy the other kids laughed at because he was afraid to swim.

“Yes, I’ll try. When I don’t sleep, I’m not…”

“Not what, Richard?”

“Not Jim.”

“I know. We’re trying. Just as you are.”

“I know. Thank you, Doctor Holmes.”

This is Doctor Mycroft Holmes. He's here to help me. 

Then why am I so afraid of him? He smells of bleach and disinfectant. A deodorant that's more expensive than the usual brand. How do I know this?

_You know everything. Everything about the man. His mobile number, his passwords. His nasty little affairs. You learned everything about him._

"You…"

I see him and Jim slips in. God. Make it stop.

"Richard? Richard, you need to shut Jim out. Okay. He's not helping you."

"I know, but when I see you…"

“Yes?”

"When I see you, it's like Jim wants to come out."

"Why do you think that is, Richard?"

Because you're the Iceman. You tortured me. You tied me up and then set me free. You set me up to kill myself because all I wanted was to be free of all this _boredom_.

No, that's not right. I remember you. From somewhere. Where?

"I don't know. How long have I known… how long have I known you?"

"We've been working together on and off for almost twenty years, Richard."

"I've been here that long? It only feels like…"

"This particular episode, Richard, has been about eighteen months. We were almost despairing of you. But you're strong, Richard. You can fight back against Jim. I know you can. Kitty knows you can."

“When can I see Kitty again?”

“Soon, Richard. Soon.”

My Kitty. My Kitty Riley, I'm doing this for you.

* * *

Long Game

No wonder Sherlock hates you so much, Mr Holmes. 

So arrogant. 

So convinced you're right. On the side of the angels. But I know better. No, you care so much about what's _good_. How does Sherlock put up with you? Your justifications, your excuses. 

For the greater good? An aeroplane filled with corpses? My body, given for you?

_Please. Please help me. I don't know why he's doing this to me. My name is Richard. Richard Brook. I'm an actor. I want to be an actor when I grow up. I want to tell stories. I love telling stories to my little sister. I want to tell stories to other children. I want to watch them laugh the way Kitty laughs when I tell her my stories about kings and princes and knights._

Oh, Mr Holmes. What frightens you so? What frightens you so much that you make a deal with me?

Because it's not me you want. Or is it?

What do you _need_ , Mycroft Holmes? Do you need to play, too? Are you just as bored as I am?

Because I rather think you _are_.

Then play with me, Mr Holmes. Let me give you a puzzle. Set you and your brother a tune. And watch you dance.

* * *

**Day 44**

"Doctor Holmes says that I have a choice, Kitty."

Kitty looks so lovely today. My darling lass. All red hair and smiles. Oh, my darling girl. She's holding my hand as we sit in the garden. I'm able to walk again, I can move about the place. 

"A choice?"

"Yeah, he thinks that there's been trauma in my past. That somewhere, somehow, something happened to me, and when I feel … threatened, or even bored, that Jim comes out."

"Bipolar?" Her brow wrinkles. I smile and kiss the wrinkle away. My Kitty, I've always been so gentle with you.

"Not entirely. It's more that Doctor Holmes thinks it's some sort of defense mechanism. That Jim is in my head, and my reaction to stress or trauma is to project myself into this sort of… well, really, he's a madman."

"Oh, God, Richard…"

"I know. The project we were working on, those poor people who all committed suicide. I think that's what started it."

"I remember, I asked you to help me with them. We wanted so desperately to figure it out."

"But I don't remember what happened next." Kitty grips my hand.

"You don't have to, my love. What matters is that now. .. "

"No, I do, I do have to remember. I don't know how it happened, but I … it was all Jim. It wasn't me, Kitty, it wasn't me. And then I woke up here, and it keeps coming in flashes. Names. Places. A face. A woman. 

"The Woman."

Kitty looks at me like I'm a stranger. 

_Like she didn't know what she was getting into. Even The Woman knew._

_Went in with eyes wide shut, she did._

"Richard?"

_The only people who didn't know. Didn't know the story was a fairy tale: Kitty and Sherlock._

"RICHARD!"

* * *

Nebulae

She wants something. Something big. Money? Power? Oh, no… she wants glory.

Who doesn't, really?

Oh, a forger. Very nice. I could use a forger. 

I wonder how she feels about Vermeer?

Such a tale it will be: the lost painting of Vermeer; a collection of oil and color and light that brings a city to gaze in awe. The story about a poor old man in Argentina who found a painting. The woman who helped him bring it to London. The glory of art. 

Art – the ultimate expression of life. 

Really, it's all just so… _dull_.

* * *

Dance

He didn't call. I was hoping he would.

Jim from IT. 

Playing gay. 

Now let's see what he does when he thinks his pet is responsible.

All the pieces are in place. Now, let's dance, Sherlock. Let's see what you can do.

"I will burn the _heart_ out of you."

Oh, his pet. His lovely, loyal pet. Is he housetrained? I bet he isn't!

How nice to have your heart so vulnerable. Well, not nice for you. Nice for me, though. 

"People have died."

Oh, he did _not_ just say that.

"That's what people DO!"

* * *

Staying Alive

Oh, Irene. You've been _such_ a naughty girl. I can make this easy on you, or I can make it so difficult.

Why did you have to choose difficult? Why, Irene?

Do you know what Irene even means?

It means "peace". 

Yes, I suppose you did know that. You would.

* * *

**Day 50**

"Richard, it's like… like I don't know you anymore."

My heart twists. I'm crushed by all of this _emotion_. There are worse things than dying. My Kitty. My Kitty Riley.

"It's me, Kitty. It always has been."

Kitty looks like she's been crying. 

"I know, but Doctor Holmes… he says that you've been so strong. Fighting Jim."

"He's not me, Kitty. I'm not Jim. I'm your Richard. Your Richard Brook."

"I know. I'm just… scared."

"Kitty, I know this is difficult. I know, I'm scared, too. But with you, Kitty, with you I'm strong.

"Kitty? Kitty, what is it?"

Kitty holds my hand. Tight. Too tight.

"Doctor Holmes says that the tumor. The tumor in your brain. That over the next few weeks…"

I'm dying. 

_That's what people DO!_

I'm dying. 

"So, Jim…"

Kitty laughs. Or tries to. It sounds like more of a sob.

"The product of the tumor, Doctor Holmes says. It's… there's nothing we can do."

* * *

Molly

God, she is the most boring of the lot. 

So pathetic. So eager to please.

So infatuated with Sherlock Holmes. WHY?

God, why does everybody love that man? He's so... ugh.

And Molly Hooper, princess of the dead. She and her cat. I'm sure they'll be very happy together. I think if I have to watch another night of _Glee_ I may just boil that cat alive. And make her watch. 

Although the music's nice.

Her lip gloss is cherry flavored.

I hate cherries. 

So pathetic. 

So in love with Sherlock.

Sherlock this.

Sherlock that. 

Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. Will everyone just shut UP about Sherlock?

But he is so very, _very_ interesting.

And, oh look… he's gone and got himself a pet. 

God, Molly, can't you even remember the pet's _name_?

John Watson. Oh. Well then. Afghanistan, probably. In love with Sherlock, doesn't know it, of course. Hopelessly straight. But Sherlock… you're even more handsome than the photo on your website. And you did so well with Jefferson.

Pity your pet had to shoot him. He would've died eventually. 

Oh, clumsy me! Let me pick up that bowl. 

Time to make my exit, Sherlock. It was lovely to meet you finally, but I have a woman to kill. That is, unless you recognize Carl's shoes. 

_Got you new laces Carl. Don't you like them, Carl?_

_Richard got you new shoelaces. Richard's such a good boy._

_A good friend, Carl. A good friend._

No, that's silly. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Richard's _dead_.

_No, he's not!_

* * *

**Day 82**

"I choose to be with you, Kitty. I will _always_ choose you."

_You really don't understand, do you, Storyteller? Who the real villain is?_

It isn't real. None of it is real.

* * *

Hope

"Why can't people just _think_?"

Jefferson Hope is already dying. I shouldn't bother with him, but he's just so perfect for what I have planned. 

I found a website. The Science of Deduction.

Sherlock Holmes. Funny name. Funny man. 

Thinks he's on the side of the angels. Thinks he knows _everything_.

"It's so difficult, Jeff." Keep him talking. A lonely, bored old man. Dying past his time. I wonder if I'll have to kill him. Maybe. Wonder how he'd die. "That's why I want to sponsor you."

"Sponsor me?"

"You're dying. I know all about dying."

He shrugs. He's been dying for a while. I remember Claire. She died quickly. 

So did Richard.

"You want to leave something for your kids, don't you? Your precious children?"

Oh, that makes him stop. Remember the story that Richard wrote – just before he died – the one about the peasant who worked and worked for his family. The king that gave him money to support his family. The good king. 

"I think that you and I, Jeff, could come to an arrangement to help your kids."

"Oh yeah? And why would I want to do that?"

"Oh, Jefferson. Funny little man in a funny little cab. I want you to find people for me. And I want you to make them _think_."

Come out, come out, wherever you are, Sherlock. It's time to play.

* * *

**Day 100**

It's so hard. The daylight here. It's hard and bright and I'm a storyteller who is dying. They won't tell me. Something happened and I don't know what it is. 

I don't want to know, though. I don't think.

And then I see Kitty when she thinks I'm not looking. Not watching her. Watching her every minute. 

"Richard?"

God, please, not now. Not again! Not like this. 

"Richard, you're scaring me. Richard! Doctor?"

"I'm sorry Miss Riley. I'm so sorry."

* * *

Shoes

We are friends, Carl. FRIENDS. 

I let you have my chemistry notes. Let you copy my homework. We were friends. That’s what friends DO!

But we’re not friends, are we? No. Not friends. Because you laughed at me. You called me stupid. I AM NOT STUPID. I can't swim, okay? But that doesn't mean that I'm not just as good as you. I'm just as good. Better than. 

Notstupidnotstupidnotstupidnotstupidnotstupidnotstupidnotstupidnotstupid notstupidnotstupidnotstupidnotstupidnotstupidnotstupid…

Because stupid wouldn’t do this? Pretend to be your friend. Fix it for you. Fix your shoes. You need new shoelaces, Carl. I brought you knew shoelaces. 

Try them, Carl. For good luck. When you swim today. 

I’ll be thinking of you. 

Came up to London just to see you. To cheer you on. 

Because you’re my friend. People are friends. That’s what people do. 

I’ll watch your shoes for you, Carl. Take care of them while you’re swimming. 

Take care of them when you’re _dead_.

* * *

Bored

People are so boring. Dull. 

"No, I don't know what happened to the money."

What's it like for them? In their little minds. 

Running around. 

Doing the washing up.

Living their little lives.

"Hello, Gran. Goodbye, Gran."

Dying. 

They're always dying. Like Carl did. You did that. You made him die. 

And it was so easy. Felt so good, didn't it?

"Richard, what's got into you?" they ask. 

"Nothing's got _into_ me."

"Richard, you seem so different."

Oh, there's a thought. Carl wasn't the first. No. Nonononononono! 

He wasn't. 

It was Richard. Richard was first. 

I wonder if they know that Richard's dead. 

Ding-dong, Richard's gone.

* * *

Pier

Claire?

Claire, where are you?

Claire? Mum's going to be so cross with you.

CLAIRE?

Why isn't she breathing? What's wrong with her? Why is she so … blue?

What does it mean when people die, Mummy?

* * *

**Frail Deeds**

They're standing in the corridor, watching through the window as Kitty Riley bends over the now still body of Richard Brook.

Kitty Riley is weeping.

"Do you think there's something wrong with her? Of course there is. There's about a million things wrong with her."

Mycroft hands Sherlock a cigarette. 

"It's not low-tar again, is it?"

"Please."

In the hospital room, Kitty Riley is weeping. 

"What good does she think that will do?"

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock grimaces and takes another drag on the cigarette. In the hospital room, the nurses begin to unplug the equipment. The pings and beeps of the monitors fade. The whoosh of the life support silences, and the only sound is Kitty's sobbing.

"He chose to, at the end," Mycroft says reflectively as they watch through the window. "He signed the release of his own free will and volition: _I, Richard Brook, being of sound mind and body…_."

Sherlock snorts. "I'm sure that's only marginally unethical, Mycroft."

Mycroft shrugs. 

"He said I was on the side of the angels," Sherlock says quietly. "Right before he…"

"Angels don't exist, Sherlock."

"Really, Mycroft, I'm not _stupid_."

"I don't believe anyone has ever said you were, dear brother."

In the hospital room, the monitor line is flat. The doctor looks at the clock. Neither Sherlock nor Mycroft can hear him, but they clearly see him announcing the time of death. 

In the hospital room, Kitty Riley is weeping.

"She believed in him. Up till the end," Mycroft says. 

"The ultimate disadvantage, then."

"John still believes in you."

"More fool, he."

"Sherlock! You've seen him. You've watched the CCTV. He believes in you."

"All hearts are broken. As you say, caring is not an advantage. Why is she still crying? It's not like that will bring him back."

"You know why. And I know you wept on the roof. I watched you."

"You would. No. That, Mycroft was for show. You're not the only one who _loves_ to be dramatic."

In the hospital room, Kitty Riley dries her tears and rises. 

As one, Sherlock and Mycroft turn away. Sherlock drops the cigarette and grinds it out with his heel.

They are gone before Kitty reaches the door to the corridor. 

Outside, it is overcast and somewhat chilly. Above them, birds wheel in the sky – traffic roars past them. A black car pulls up and the back door is opened. Mycroft steps into his car and rolls down the window.

"Well, Sherlock, you won," he remarks.

"Don't ask me how it feels," Sherlock snarls, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I wasn't going to. I was merely going to congratulate you."

"Oh, well then. Thank you. I suppose."

"Quite. And Sherlock?"

"Yes, Mycroft?" 

"Tell John. He does still believe. And it is, contrary to what we've observed today, his strength."

A grin tugs at Sherlock's lips. 

"He'll probably punch me, again," he says.

"Or he might faint," Mycroft replies. "You don't know."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock snorts. "I know _everything_ about John Watson."

"I'm sure you do. Go home, Sherlock. Go home."

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Needless to say, none of these characters belong to me. I am not the BBC, Mark Gatiss, or Steven Moffat. Nor am I Arthur Conan Doyle, more's the pity.
> 
> A multitude of thanks go to the as-yet unnamed beta team that pulled me (kicking and screaming) through this. 
> 
> The title is paraphrased from Dylan Thomas.
> 
> The dialogue is quoted from a transcript complied by ariadnedevere
> 
> Finally, many thanks go to the Holmestice mods who generously allowed me an extension in the midst it all.


End file.
